Godric's Hollow
by Aksarben
Summary: Ah, and yes, Number Four. The Potters." This is a small one-shot I found, buried in a sock drawer for three years. I wanted to share it with you even though it is different from the books. Remeber to Read and Review and I don't own Harry Potter!


Harry set off towards the tiny town, breathing in the cool autumn air. It was getting late; the sun was dipping beneath the crests of the hills beyond. He shivered, but not from the cold. There was something in the air as he approached Gelstonshire that made him feel safe, lulling him into a sense of peace before thrusting him back into the reality of what he was about to see. He was sure he wanted to do this. He needed to do it. But at the same time, he was afraid of letting go of his ignorance. Before now, he'd never really seen the closeness of the war. He'd seen countless friends and enemies die because of one man's greed, but he'd never really understood what that same man had stolen from him.

A yelp to his left brought him from his reverie, but when he looked, there was no sign of the source. Feeling no real danger, Harry continued on the path. He could just make out the sign marking the city. A ways beyond, Harry could see the twinkling lights of tiny houses resting in the valley. It looked so perfect, so completely flawless that Harry wondered if this peaceful community had not been touched by the evil that lay just miles beyond the hills.

Harry had reached the city's sign. Gelstonshire, Population 856. He looked around; no sign of Ron or Hermione. Harry checked his watch impatiently. Where are they? He watched the second hand drift slowly around the clock's face. Harry was already seven minutes behind schedule. It was unlike Hermione to be late. Ron, he could forgive. Harry continued to check his watch. Nine minutes late . . . Ten . . . Twelve . . . POP! Harry, completely taken aback by the sudden outburst of noise, jumped and spun around. Nothing. "Alright . . ." said Harry, strting to feel a little suspicious. He shook his head and turned back, only to jump again; Hermione Granger was standing before him, looking terribly annoyed. Ron was standing next to her, smiling through his obvious embarrassment.

"Hello, Harry," said Hermione curtly.

"Hey, Hermione, Ron," he panted, still regaining his normal heart rate.

"I'm very sorry about the time," she continued, glaring at Ron, "but we had difficulties with Apparating."

Harry glanced at Ron, who promptly seemed to find his shoe terribly interesting.

"Would you care to explain the reason of our delay, Ronald?" shot Hermione.

Ron looked up, surprised.

"Well, you see Harry," he began, "Apparating is very difficult, even for the greatest of wizards. Dad, in fact, the other day-"

"Oh, please, get on with it Ron," said Hermione.

"Um, well, I . . . I forgot my arm back at the Burrow," he said shyly, looking down again.

Harry laughed knowingly.

"I find nothing funny here!" shouted Hermione. "Ron could have seriously been injured! If I hadn't insisted that he go first, on could very well still be a paraplegic."

Ron grinned at Harry from behind Hermione's turned back.

"Nevertheless, Harry, I'll try to continue with this evening. Hopefully, for the sake of Mister Weasley, we won't need to Apparate any time soon."

"Where exactly is Godric's Hollow? Do you know?" asked Ron, clearly eager to change the topic.

Harry looked around at the town, finally putting Pertunia's directions into pictures.

"I guess it's-"

"Of course he knows! Did you forget your brain back there as well?" interjected Hermione.

"It's this way," said Harry, gesturing down toward the village. "We should look for street signs as soon as possible."

At that, they started down the path to Gelstonshire. By the time they reached the town, the sun was just peering over the tallest part of the hill. The sky was a golden hue and would have been very beautiful, but Harry was far more enveloped in the task at hand.

Harry walked in silence; Ron and Hermione argued the whole way.

"Don't you know why we're here?" snapped Hermione quietly, as if Harry could not hear already.

"A romantic getaway?" replied Ron in heated sarcasm.

Hermione let out a muffled growl. "I hoped you would take this a little more seriously, Ron. After all-"

"Could we please concentrate on street signs?" shouted Harry angrily. "Perhaps you two could continue when we actually get there."

They proceeded in silence, with occasional whispers of direction from Hermione.

Follow Rocessor Avenue until you get to Angleton Street. Turn left. Make a right at Brentwoode Road. Go straight until you run unto Ashtown Heights. Turn right into . . .

"Godrics's Hollow," breathed Hermione.

The small sign marking the place was charred and broken. Somehow, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had left the cozy village and found their way into a cheerless, dead world. It must have once been an upscale neighborhood; the houses were all stately English manors, but none seemed to hold life. Everything about the place seemed hopeless and sad. Something terrible had happened here.

The three friends stood in stunned silence, looking around at the once proud area. There were only about ten or twelve houses in the whole place, but every one of them as empty. Every one of them spoke of neglect and despair. All of the windows and doors were boarded up. Weeds had long since claimed every garden, and the lush green foliage had shriveled and died.

Harry felt Ron shiver to his right and couldn't blame him; it did seem cold all of the sudden. At first glance, Godric's Hollow could have been any other neighborhood. But where were all the people?

"Harry, I'm scared here," Hermione whispered. "I feel so alone."

There was an undeniable sensation of misery at Godric's Hollow, but Harry knew he couldn't turn back. If he couldn't face his past now, he would never be able to.

Harry looked around again. There must be someone here. Why would fate lead him here and then desert him? He sighed deeply.

"Hey," said Ron suddenly, "it smells kind of like-"

"A fire," said Harry.

His eyes darted around, searching for this tiny sign of life. There. A few hundred yards away, a small trail of smoke leaked from a chimney of an old, prominent-looking house. Harry's feet responded before his mind did; he took off running in a sprint.

Paying no attention to Hermione's shouts, Harry raced to the door and pounded loudly. He waited, holding his breath; his heart began to pounce from his chest. Nothing. Angrily, Harry pounded even louder. Ron and Hermione had finally caught up to him.

"Harry, what are you doing?" said Hermione, exasperated.

"Finding the truth!" he shouted back, beating the door harder still.

"I don't believe-"she began, but suddenly the door opened, and there stood a grubby, ancient man in an old wool sweater and khaki pants. Joining him at the knee was an equally grubby, ancient beagle.

"What's the trouble, young sir?" asked the old man, clearly astounded. He spoke with a slight Irish accent. "Why all the bangin' on me door? Why, we haven't had company for many years!"

"We?" asked Ron.

"We meanin' me and Hank here of course," answered the old man as-a-matter-of-factly. "Now, I'll ask you again, what's the meanin' of all this?"

"We're looking for-" Harry stopped short, "for some friends who used to live in Godric's Hollow. Can you help us?"

The old man considered Harry for a moment. "Alright, I'll help. Please, step inside, laddies, we don't want you catching a cold!"

Hermione cast a wary eye at Harry, but he ignored it and went inside. Ron and Hermione grudgingly obliged.

Instantly, they walked into a wall of warmth. Harry breathed in the heartening odor of the wood fire. The house was indeed large; a grand staircase stood before them, reaching up to the second floor. There seemed to be no end to the classic beauty of the house. It seemed that the old man had tried to keep it in good repair, yet, despite his best efforts, dust and disuse were evident everywhere. They sank down into the plush couches, thankful for the oasis of warmth in such an unfeeling place. The old man sat in a large armchair, Hank resting his head on the man's knee. He stared pensively at them all.

"You must be in quite some hurry to meet your friends," he began brightly, stroking the dog's head. "You seemed very eager at the door." He smiled at Harry.

"We, well, I, just want to see it. I mean, them." Harry could not look the man in the face.

"Please sir, forgive us for being so intrusive," Hermione said smoothly.

"Oh, it's no trouble at all, young lass. I was just wanting to say that I would've gotten there sooner, but I don't move as well as I used to," he said gruffly, stretching out a stiff leg. "And please, call me Pat. Most call me Mr. O'Malley. And some little rascals even call me Mad O'Malley, but we try not to think about those." He grinned for a moment, but then, to Harry's surprise, Pat's smile faded into a weary frown. His eyes glazed over an he seemed to be in deep thought.

"What's wrong?" asked Harry quietly.

Pat looked up quickly. "It's nothing, my boy. Just a thought about things past. There's no use in dwelling on it now, eh?" His warm smile returned.

"Pat?" said Ron ardently, "What happened to Godric's Hollow? Why is it that no one lives here anymore? I mean, I know about Harry's-" He stopped short and looked at Harry in a sort of mortified apology.

"Friends?" completed Pat after a moment.

Hermione looked murderous.

"It's alright, lassie," said Pat, sensing the discomfort. "I myself have often wondered why I now live in such solitude. It is a very sad story, my friends." He sat unmoving, watching Pat's eyes, trying to desperately see what he was seeing in his mind.

"I would hate to trouble such young minds with-" Pat started, but Harry, wild with anticipation, cut him off.

"Tell us! Please . . ." he added quietly.

Pat studied Harry for a long while. There was a keen glint in his eye that Harry hadn't noticed before.

"If you wish to know, I will surely tell you," Pat said softly, more to Harry' than anyone else. Harry swallowed hard and nodded. That was it.

Pat sat up and cleared his throat. "Godric's Hollow was not always such a dismal place. It was once a thriving neighborhood with wealthy houses and successful families. And me? I've been here all along. You see, I'm the groundskeeper here. I've known every face to pass through Godrc' Hollow. For fifty-three years, I've seen seasons change, children grow, people laugh and cry and live . . ." He stopped and looked sadly at the ground. "But I have also seen them die."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat rigid in their chairs. Suddenly, the room didn't feel so warm and cozy.

Pat looked up. "Let me show you Godric's Hollow."

OOOOOoooooooooooo

"Bundle up," said Pat as they stepped out the door. The cold burst of autumn wind was not a welcomed surprise.

Harry did not seem to feel a difference; an icy numbness had spread across his whole body, rendering him silent and forlorn.

"We never really formally introduced ourselves," said Pat undauntedly.

Ron was the first to react. "Ron Weasley's the name, pleased to meet you."

"I'm Hermione," said a stiff voice from behind Harry.

It was a moment before Harry responded. He wasn't sure if his voice would sound as bright as Ron's or as strong as Hermione's.

"Harry," he said, muffled by the scarf around his neck. He pulled it tighter so to explain the stifled introduction.

"Ah, Gryffindor!" exclaimed Pat suddenly, noticing the red-and-gold pattern on Harry's scarf. "It's nice to see Hogwarts kids out; we only see those Muggle blighters around here."

Ron started. "You mean all those back there were Muggles?" he said gesturing back to Gelstonshire. "I thought this was a wizard community!"

"Of course it is, my boy!" Pat said, starting them off around the cobble streets of Godric's Hollow. "Why, some of the greatest witches and wizards to ever come out of Hogwarts lived right here in Godric's Hollow! Let's see, the Prewitts lived here at Number Twelve."

Harry shivered.

", , , and the O'Reilley's lived here, good Irish folk," continued Pat, "The Morris's lived at Number Eight, and yes, the Longbottoms here."

Ron, Harry, and Hermione stared blankly at the cozy brick home. The shuttered windows gave the impression that they were trying to hide Number Three's horrific past from passerbys. The picket fence did nothing to lighten the mood of the home, everything around the house seemed dead. It was here where Death Eaters tortured Neville's parents into madness. It was here that Neville lot the chance at a normal and happy existence.

"Sad story, theirs," said Pat, shaking his head slowly. He continued walking. "I myself was in Hufflepuff. Not many Hufflepuffs live around here though."

Harry, still shaken by the sight of the Longbottom's house, kept his head down. He and Neville were essentially the very same person. They both came from tragic beginnings. Harry wondered if Neville ever returned to Godric's Hollow. He tried to keep his focus off of Neville for the time being and listened to Pat's voice.

", , , Number six belonged to the Sawyers. Hard-working aurors, they were. And of course, Number Four. The Potters."

Harry's heart stopped. It was as if time itself had slowed and let Harry waste away in his moment of terror. An icy fist had grasped his heart and was just waiting for him to look up. Slowly, though his mind was screaming at his not to, Harry raised his head. His eyes froze on Number Four.

"Welcome home, Harry," said Pat softly.

Hermione had her hand clamped over her mouth in shock. Ron held her other hand tight.

Harry couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. All he could do was stand there and take in what he had been trying to resist for so long.

The stately brick house was still in perfect condition. The door's brass knocker was still shiny, the path to the front door was perfectly clean, as if its inhabitants were simply away on vacation. Everything about it seemed untouched. Peaceful.

Pat's voice was cold steel. "The Prewitts were first. Then the Longbottoms. Everyone was scared. Your parents were the rock of this neighborhood. Everyone loved them and followed them. Even to death." He let this sink in. "They were my good friends. Your father was the finest man I ever knew, Harry, and your mother—Lily was an angel on Earth. I wanted them to leave Godric's Hollow. I knew that he would come back for them."

Harry's throat was painfully dry. His eyes were frozen on the front door. He wanted to burst through, make the past go away. Perhaps they were still there, only sleeping.

"I tried again and again to get them to go. But your parents would not abandon their home. They were aurors, Harry, brave and strong. But no one is strong enough." Pat's voice cracked. "The house was completely destroyed. As a testament of my loyalty to your parents, I rebuilt Number Four with my own hands. Just as it was, No magic. They were some of the best people I ever met, harry. After their tragedy, no one dared stay in Godric's Hollow. Too dangerous. Even the Muggles were afraid." He gathered himself up. "I stayed here Harry. I would never leave this place, because I see what it can be. And so, for seventeen years, I have remained. Absolutely alone. I keep their memory alive. I kept Number Four for you, Harry Potter."

OOOOOOOoooooo

Sorry folks, I have not abandoned my other story. I just found this long lost story back from 2005 that I wrote with my best friend. I give her a lot of the credit. Thanks Bets!

Hope it was worth reading, don't forget to REVIEW!

Thanks, Aksarben


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